


Don't Bet on It

by htbthomas



Category: New Girl
Genre: Arguing, Belligerent Sexual Tension, Bets, Board Games, Ensemble Cast, F/M, Fake-Out Make-Out, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Humor, Romance, Sharing a Bed, Unexpected Visits, Yuletide 2012
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-23
Updated: 2012-12-23
Packaged: 2017-11-22 02:36:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/604874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/htbthomas/pseuds/htbthomas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Winston and Schmidt bet Nick and Jess that they can't last a week without arguing with each other. It should be easy, right? </p><p>(written before Bonnie Miller, Nick's mom, was introduced in 2.20, "Chicago")</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Bet on It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [emef](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emef/gifts).



> Thanks to blithers and galfridian for the beta help on short notice!

“Come on, take one...” Jess pushed the blue and white frosted cupcake into Nick’s face. Where offering, cajoling and pleading hadn’t worked, forcing might be worth a try.

Nick grimaced and twisted his face out of the way. “No means no!”

Jess was determined. “They are _really_ yummy, just look at their little sparkly faces.” She brought it closer, right under Nick’s nose, and Nick stumbled back out of his chair, the back hitting the wood floor with a smack.

“Hey!” Schmidt cried out from the other side of the table, his exasperation overcoming his boredom with yet another day of bickering, “those are harvested oak hardwood with cherry finish! Do you _know_ how many Amish people had to carve by candlelight to get that exact slant?” Winston opened his mouth to say something and then kept chewing with a shake of his head, enjoying the show.

Jess and Nick ignored Schmidt’s protests, as usual. “Get that abomination out of my face!” Nick shouted, walking backwards away from Jess with hasty steps.

“Abomination? These were created with love and care just for tonight! See how I used just the perfect color of rock candy for the accents?”

“That’s just it! You’ve made something...” He curled up his lip with distaste, “...cute... out of a grim, gritty masterpiece.” His backward escape was blocked by the couch hitting the backs of his legs.

“Grim?” Jess scoffed. “Are we even watching the same show? There’s _plenty_ of humor in it, thank you very much.”

“It is pretty damn funny sometimes,” Winston called over before taking another bite of cupcake.

But his support went unheard. “Yeah, _black_ humor. Why didn’t you color the cupcakes black, then,” Nick said, flicking the paper cupcake liner, “if you’re going for such realism?” 

Jess stopped waving the cupcake toward Nick and looked upward in thought. “Hmm. Good idea. I don’t think I have any left over from Halloween, but if I mixed several food colors together, I bet I could get close...” She spun on her heel and headed into the kitchen.

“Wait, no!” This time, Nick chased after Jess. “This is _just_ like you, taking something I said completely the wrong way. I don’t _want_ black-frosted cupcakes any more than I want _blue_ ones. It’s just unnatural, Jess. And ruins the whole point of this marathon.”

Jess set down the offending cupcake on the kitchen island, and placed her hands on her hips. “Ruins? It was supposed to make it more fun!” She picked up two cupcakes in her hands. “Cupcakes are fun! What would _you _serve for a _Breaking Bad___ marathon?” She gestured with the cupcakes toward the DVDs on the coffee table.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Nick said, throwing up his hands. “Maybe _anything_? Tequila, beer, chips...”

As the two continued arguing in the kitchen, their gesticulations getting ever wilder, Winston said under his breath, “Marijuana, meth...”

“Arsenic?” Schmidt put his head in his hands. “Either that or I’m going to need a gunshot to the head if they don’t knock it off soon.”

Winston placed his chin on his hands instead. “Oh, I don’t know, it’s kind of cute sometimes.” 

“Cute?” Schmidt lifted his head and frowned. “It’s all build-up and no payoff. There’s never any winner. It just goes around and around and around...”

Winston shrugged. “It’s just Nick and Jess, you know? I bet they couldn’t stop bickering even if they tried.”

At that moment, there was a pause in the argument and Winston’s words rang clearly across the room. Nick and Jess both turned toward Winston, Jess lowering her cupcake-filled hands with shock and hurt, Nick incredulous. “Ex _cuse_ me?” Nick crossed his arms in front of his chest.

Winston’s eyes flicked back and forth between them for a moment. “I—I mean, that’s just part of who you are, right?” he said with a nervous swallow. “You bicker, you make up, the cycle starts all over again...”

“Now that’s unfair, Winston,” Schmidt said. “People change. Just look at me! I went from a husky 250 to a svelte 160, from a dollar store beauty regimen to a top-of-the-line coif...”

Jess smiled and relaxed. “Thank you, Schmidt.” 

“Who says there’s anything to change?” Nick argued. He took a belligerent step forward. “There’s nothing wrong with holding opinions, you know.”

Jess set down a cupcake and placed a gentle hand on Nick’s arm. “He’s taking our side.”

“There _is_ no ‘our’ side! If I want to express myself, I will.”

“Not if expressing yourself means that others are going to get hurt!”

Schmidt huffed and turned toward Winston. “I stand corrected. They can’t stop. It is actually impossible.” Winston nodded sagely. 

“Ohhhh, no you don’t.” Nick stomped the rest of the way to the table. “No one tells Nick Miller what is impossible and not impossible except Nick Miller.”

“Here, here!” Jess cheered, fist pumping the air.

“We could stop any time we wanted to, couldn’t we, Jess?”

“Absolutely.”

Winston gave a sidelong glance to Schmidt. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“This could be quite interesting,” Schmidt agreed.

Winston steepled his hands. “But I believe that there must be something at stake to really make it worth our while...” He cast his gaze around the apartment, and it landed on the Douchebag Jar. “You make it _one week_ without arguing—even when you’re alone—and you can split the proceeds in the jar.”

“It has been quite a month for the jar,” Schmidt added. Everyone nodded in agreement.

“And if you _don’t_ make it a week, then you have to double the amount in the jar.”

“Why not triple it?” Nick said, nostrils flaring slightly.

“Ni—” Jess began, but immediately said instead, “Yes, fine, this should be easy.”

Winston held out his hand. “Shake on it.” Schmidt’s hand shot out to hover beside Winston’s.

Nick shook each hand with a jerk, and turned his back. Jess was firm but gentle. “All agreed,” Winston intoned solemnly.

Jess bounced back over to the kitchen to pick up her tray of blue meth-rock candy cupcakes and glided over to the couch. Setting them down in front of Nick, she said, “Just in case you change your mind. No pressure.”

Nick picked up the DVD box to read the case... and conveniently block his view of the tray. “Let’s get this thing started.”

“All right!” Schmidt clapped his hands together and rubbed them eagerly. “About time.” He plopped down on the other side of Nick and screwed off the cap of his craft beer. Winston sat down beside Jess and picked up the remote...

_Ding-dong._

The quartet turned their heads in unison. “Were you expecting anyone?” Jess asked the room in general.

Nick shook his head as he stood. “No...” 

Behind him, Winston’s face turned slowly from confusion to dawning realization with every step Nick got closer to the door. “Oh, wait, Nick, did I forget to tell you that...?”

“What?” he asked, while looking through the peephole, and then spun to face Winston angrily. “ _Winston,_ ” he growled.

“...your mom’s coming for a visit?” Winston squeaked out in a quiet voice.

* * *

“Your mom?” Jess bounced up from her spot on the couch and slipped between Nick and the door. “I can’t wait to meet her!” Her hand closed around the door knob.

“Don’t you—” he warned her.

Jess’s eyes opened to their widest and most pleading. “Nick, it’s your _mother_.” 

“Who had three minutes?” Schmidt said between swallows of beer. “Because even I couldn’t have called that.” 

Nick’s and Jess’s eyes popped open wide (well, Jess’s even wider), and they snapped their heads toward Schmidt. “That was not—” Jess began, while Nick said, “Just a min—”

Winston, who suddenly looked quite a bit less worried, gave them both a wide smile. “If you aren’t going to argue, then, please, let Mrs. Miller in.”

Jess tilted her head with a cheeky grin at Nick’s scowl and opened the door. “Well, hello, Mrs. Miller! We’ve been expecting you! Come into our humble abode.” She twirled her hand around with a flourish.

The woman standing in the hall wore a purple pantsuit and an identical scowl to Nick’s behind the door. Ignoring Jess’s welcome, she demanded, “Nicholas? Where are you?” She did not step across the threshold.

Nick took a step into view, plastering on a forced smile. “Hi, Ma! How are you doing?”

“I would be better if you ever answered your phone,” she said, bustling in, rolling her suitcase behind her. She turned to survey the apartment, and her eyes lit on Winston. Her face transformed from annoyed to delighted. “Winston, my boy! Come give me a hug.”

“Of course!” Winston said, levering himself out from the cushions and holding his arms open wide as he walked toward her. “It’s great to see you again.” He gave her a strong squeeze that she returned heartily. “We’re _all_ pleased to see you, aren’t we Nick?” He raised an eyebrow, daring Nick to argue.

“The bet was that I wouldn’t argue with Jess,” Nick furiously mouthed at him as his mother turned out of the hug. “Of course we are!” he continued out loud, the smile plastered back on.

Winston mouthed back when Mrs. Miller turned away from him, “We’ll see how long you last.”

“Ma,” Nick said with painful politeness, “you know Schmidt...” Schmidt waved cheerfully from the couch. “And this is Jess, my other roommate. I’ve told you about her...?” he finished, unsure.

“Jess! Nice to meet you. Winston,” she said with a frowning glance toward Nick, “has told me so much about you. You’re a teacher, he said?”

Jess gave Mrs. Miller a hug so warm, strangers would think they’d known each other for years. “Yes, I am.” She pulled back and held a hand to her heart. “It’s very fulfilling.”

“I’m sure it is. Unlike working at a bar,” she directed toward Nick over her shoulder.

“I’m a bar _tender_ , Ma.” Mrs. Miller ignored him to take a place on the couch.

“A bit like how being a lawyer must feel,” Winston supplied helpfully. “I’m working on a radio show now and Schmidt...”

Schmidt gestured grandly. “I’m a captain of industry, sailing through the corporate seas.”

Mrs. Miller blinked but didn’t ask any further questions. 

Nick, who was still recovering from the shock of a sudden parental visit, studied his mother’s suitcase, slightly perturbed. “So... which hotel are you—”

Winston jumped in. “Hotel de Miller, Bishop, Schmidt and Day. We have the guest room almost ready for you.”

“Guest room?” Nick and Jess said in unison.

Schmidt caught on quickly. “Yes, the second one on the left.”

Jess’s mouth opened as she realized her room had been offered without her permission. “Oh, well, I guess... um, it’s not... _quite_ ready, but...” 

“I’m sure it will be fine, Jess. Take your time.” Mrs. Miller looked up at Nick, then patted the cushion beside her. “I want to catch up with my boy.” Her tone brooked no argument. Nick slumped where he stood, and then dropped down beside her with a tiny huff.

Jess stood there awkwardly for a few moments, waiting for someone to save her. None of her roommates said a word. With a sigh, she turned and walked with slow steps toward her bedroom to clean it up.

“So...” Mrs. Miller began, training her gaze on Nick intently. “Have you started taking law classes again?”

“No,” Nick said petulantly, looking at his shoes. There was a stray piece of blue rock candy beside the left shoe.

“Looking for another, more steady job?”

“No.” He started to kick at the piece of candy.

“Thinking about options for a new career?”

“No.” The piece of candy twisted beneath his sole.

“He wrote a novel,” Winston piped up.

“Yeah.” The piece was nothing more than blue powder now.

“It was _unbelievable_ , wasn’t it, Schmidt?”

“Indescribable,” Schmidt agreed.

“Really?” Mrs. Miller said with surprise. “Have you been shopping it around to publishers?”

“No.” The powder blended in pretty well with the color of the rug, actually.

“Well, why not?”

He finally looked up at her. “Why not? Because it’s personal, that’s why,” Nick said, his face defiant.

“It’s definitely a Nick Miller one-of-a-kind.” Winston was gleeful.

Mrs. Miller sighed dramatically. “Fine. So you’re still at that bar. No plans for the future.” She waited for Nick to contradict her, but he sat there stoically. “What about this girl that you’re dating that Winston told me about a couple of months ago? Is it serious?”

The roommates looked at each other. Nick and Angie had broken up about a month ago. “Oh, well, she’s not—”

“Not just a girl he’s dating!” Schmidt interrupted. “It’s quite serious, Mrs. Miller, quite serious.”

“Wha...?” Nick began, confused.

Winston, catching on to Schmidt’s idea, was quick to jump in as well. “Yes, it’s so serious that she’s moved in with him.”

“Moved in?” Mrs. Miller looked more interested than she had all night. “When do I get to meet her? Is she at work?”

“Now, wait just a minute—” Nick said, realizing too late where this was going.

“You’ve already met her! Jess? Oh, Je-ess!” Schmidt called, standing up.

“It’s Jessica?” Mrs. Miller clapped her hands together, her earlier disapproval doing a sudden 180.

Jess came from around the corner, her hair tied up above her head. “Yes?”

Mrs. Miller stood and rushed over to Jess, wrapping her arms around Jess’s waist. “Oh, I’m so happy for both of you! Has he proposed yet?”

“Proposed?” Jess asked, showing white around her blue irises.

Mrs. Miller turned back to Nick. “Nicholas, don’t you tell me you’re going to keep the poor girl waiting much longer.”

“Yes, Nicholas,” Winston agreed. “Nicholas is just waiting for the right moment, isn’t he?” Schmidt added seriously.

Jess and Nick looked at each other, helpless to respond. One word from either of them ripping apart the fabric of fibs Winston and Schmidt had woven and another round of bickering could begin. Jess smiled and laughed nervously. “Heh, I guess the secret’s out, honey.”

Nick dropped back down to the couch, head in his hands.

* * *

Jess lay on the bed in the dark, stock still, eyes fixed on the ceiling. This was quite a pickle they were in, wasn’t it? She and Sam were long over, so she didn’t even have an easy out for any of this. But Jess couldn’t think of a solution right now, not here in Nick’s room, on Nick’s bed. Nick was only inches away, both afraid to move for fear of touching the other by accident. 

Jess’s muscles were beginning to cramp up, and she was _cold._ She missed her soft quilts, which Mrs. Miller was now enjoying. “Nick,” she whispered, just loud enough for him to hear.

“What?” he grunted back.

“What if I get under the covers? That way if I accidentally move too far onto your side of the bed, there’s... protection. Like a bedsheet prophylactic. For my girl cooties.”

“Ew. Stop. Go to sleep.” He shifted, but not in any helpful way. “Besides, the whole _bed_ is my side of the bed. If anyone’s getting under the covers, it’s going to be me.”

“Fine. Do you have any other blankets? I have feathers on top of my goosepimples.”

He groaned softly. “I don’t know. Maybe in the closet.”

Jess tiptoed over to the other side of the room and slid open the door. It was too dark to see—were those blankets on the top shelf, or shirts? “Where are they?”

“Somewhere in there.” His voice was muffled—while she had been peering into the closet, he had crawled under the covers. “If there are any at all.”

“You don’t know?”

“I don’t keep an inventory in my head, geez.” He burrowed deeper.

Jess stomped—well, a quiet stomp—back over to the bed and yanked back the covers. 

“Hey!” Nick said too loudly before he bit it back, and continued more quietly, “What are you doing?”

She didn’t care any longer about awkward touching. She was cold and had left the polka dot jammies in her own room. “Move over.”

“Ugh, whatever. Keep your cold feet to yourself.”

“Shh,” she warned. “They’ll hear, and we’ll both be out a pile of samolians.”

“They can’t hear.” He turned over, pulling more of the covers over himself.

“You think Schmidt hasn’t bugged this room?” She yanked some blankets back. “Or Winston isn’t standing at the wall with a glass turned upside down?”

Nick stilled. “Oh, god,” he moaned. Then he covered his mouth with the sheet, realizing what that might sound like if overheard.

Jess stifled a giggle. It would serve their roommates right if something were actually happening in here. Instead, she turned her back to his, and positioned herself under the blankets so that every limb was out of the cold air. After several long minutes, staring at the digital clock on the nightstand, Jess’s eyes closed.

“Ack!” Nick’s whispered shout woke her suddenly. “Feet!”

* * *

Nick came awake the next morning, the sun creeping into his eyes, the way it usually did. He kept his eyes firmly shut—he wasn’t ready to get up, wasn’t ready to face another day with his mother and her disapproval of his life choices. There was a good reason he never returned to Chicago after he dropped out of law school.

Nick snuggled further under the blankets. It felt so warm, so comfortable... and his eyes flew open as he realized why. The sun nearly blinded him, but it was nothing compared to the feeling of Jess spooning him, her arm flung over his waist, and softly snoring.

He pondered whether to move and wake her, or would that be worse? She might wake up and realize what she had done unconsciously. The longer he lay there, the more conscious he was of her body conformed to his, of the soft sounds she made as she slept... 

His boxers felt suddenly very tight. He had to get out of bed, and fast.

Slipping out as carefully as possible, he grabbed his favorite pair of jeans off the floor, tiptoed to the closet, and choose a flannel shirt. Maybe a cold shower would take care of his traitorous body.

Too bad it wouldn’t take care of his traitorous mind.

Behind him, he heard Jess stir. “What... time is it?” she asked, voice gravelly.

“Um...” He tried to turn just enough to see the clock on the bedside table. “8:24.”

Jess groaned before sitting up and stretching. “I can’t believe I slept this late. I’m usually up an hour ago.”

“Maybe it’s your bed? Too uncomfortable,” he answered, wincing. He didn’t want her to think about why his bed was more comfortable. And he was starting to feel a bit uncomfortable standing there with his back to her, hiding his delicate condition. “I’m gonna go take a shower.” He carefully positioned the clothes over his erection and got out of there in a flash.

Jess called after him, “Maybe it’s _your_ bed.” She watched him disappear without answering, focusing without thought on his butt. She flushed with color and lay back again in the blankets, which were so warm and smelled so good, earthy yet sweet at the same time. A lot like Nick...

Whoa, brain! Jess bounced out of bed. That road was a dangerous one for her thoughts to go down. Maybe a little coffee would clear her head.

She padded across the hall to her bedroom to get a robe. Knocking lightly, she said, “Mrs. Miller, may I come in?”

The answering voice came not from the room, but the kitchen. “I’m in here, dear.” Jess turned to see her sitting at the kitchen island, coffee mug between her hands. Schmidt was stirring something at the stove.

Suddenly a new wonderful smell replaced her memories of Nick's bed sheets—bacon and freshly-brewed coffee. “Be right there! Just going to grab something.” 

Padding into the kitchen in her bunny slippers and fuzzy blue bathrobe, she felt like things were almost back to normal. She waved cheerily at Mrs. Miller. “Good morning. Sleep well?”

“Yes. Much better than I would have in a hotel, knowing my son and his friends are nearby.” She winked at Jess. “And girlfriend.”

Schmidt swiveled from the stove with a skillet in one oven-mitted hand. “Nick is just _so_ happy here, despite his job situation.” He served a couple strips of bacon onto a plate for Jess as he talked. “I was just telling Mrs. Miller all about it.” 

“ _Were_ you now?” Jess asked, giving Schmidt the stink eye out of Mrs. Miller’s view. He and Winston were doing everything they could to win this bet! At least Winston was sleeping right now, she didn’t have to deal with two vs. one.

“Oh, yes,” Mrs. Miller said, taking a sip of her coffee. “He told me that the two of you were _so_ compatible. That it’s like... how did you describe it, Schmidt?”

“Like sunshine and roses, all the time.” He smiled brightly while pouring Jess a cup of coffee.

“Oh, that sounds like us, all right.” Jess would be darned if she’d let Schmidt win this round. They still had six more days to go.

A minute later, Nick walked into the room, scrubbing at his wet hair with a towel.

“Pooh bear!” Jess greeted him. “Come have some breakfast.”

His eyes widened only slightly at the endearment. “Sure... uh, honey pot.” He tried not to grimace and mostly succeeded.

“See, what’d I tell you?” Schmidt enthused, setting down a plate for Nick beside Jess. “Aren’t they just adorable?”

Mrs. Miller smiled. “They certainly are.” As Nick took his place, she asked, “When is your next shift at work, Nicholas?”

Nick picked up a piece of bacon and took a bite before answering. “Tomorrow.”

“Oh, good, then, we have the whole day. I’m looking forward to getting to know your sweet Jessica a lot better.”

“So am I!” Jess said with excitement. “And to hear more about what little Nicholas was really like.” She felt a nudge under the table, but ignored it. “So what would you like to do today? Go sightseeing in L.A. maybe?”

“Yeah, they’ve got some great Hollywood studio tours. Really in-depth, several hours,” Nick said. The busier they kept her, the quicker this nightmare would be over.

“Oh, I did that the last time I was here. And I don’t want my attention to be diverted too much from my boy and his girl.” Mrs. Miller looked between the two of them, not hiding her interest in getting every detail she could. “Especially since I have to leave tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow morning?” Schmidt said, taking the chair on the other side of Mrs. Miller. “That’s so soon! But I’m sure they’ll make the most of it.”

“You’re so sweet, dear,” Mrs. Miller said, patting Schmidt’s forearm. She turned to Jess. “What would you two normally do on a lovely Saturday like this?”

“Ya mean, other than stay in bed all day?” Jess said, with a wink and nudge, doing some sort of terrible Mae West impression.

“Oh, god, Jess...” Nick groaned and started to drop his head in despair, but raised eyebrows from Schmidt made him swivel his chin back around to add, “...honey pie, my mother doesn’t need to know all our intimate details...”

“I remember what it was like, Nicholas, when your father and I were first dating.” She leaned close to Jess and stage-whispered, “Sometimes we wouldn’t leave the apartment all _weekend_.”

Nick pantomimed vomiting behind Jess’s back. Schmidt sat back and crossed his arms over his chest with utter enjoyment.

“But, um, when we’re not... you know... then we like to...” Jess cast her eyes around the dining area, and her gaze fell on a grocery list. “Go shopping?”

“Shopping,” Nick verified with flat disbelief.

“Yeah, people shop, couples shop, it’s a thing.”

“Oo, shopping. That sounds fun. And we can talk at the same time.” Mrs. Miller stood and started to clear her plate and mug, but Schmidt swooped in to take them with a pleasant nod. Smiling back at him, she moved to the chair beside Jess. “Where did you need to go?”

Jess opened her mouth to try to suggest something, anything she needed. She glanced at Nick, who was completely unhelpful, chewing thoughtfully at a sixth piece of bacon instead. She thought quickly, what was something she had needed recently...? “A new blanket.”

That made Nick stop chewing and look at her in surprise. 

She kept going, words tumbling out before she could stop them. “One of those microfleece ones, the snuggly kind for when the nights are cold and even your body heat doesn’t cut it.”

Nick’s look turned to horror, and he glanced toward a suddenly interested Schmidt, shaking his head in slight denial. 

Schmidt wasn’t buying it—his grin slowly went full-blown. “Oh! I know!” Schmidt clapped his hands together. “We could _all_ go to Bed, Bath and Beyond! I’d like to pick up a few aromatherapy candles myself.” He came around the table and gave Nick’s shoulder a teasing squeeze as he passed. “Sounds like _someone_ has an ulterior motive!” he said in an obnoxiously sing-songy tone of voice.

Neither Nick or Jess understood what he meant until Mrs. Miller nodded and said, “They do have a great gift registry...” She got up and stretched. “Time to get ready! Luckily I brought my best gym shoes for shopping.”

When she was out of ear shot, Nick repeated to Jess in an even flatter tone, “Shopping.” He shook his head. “Like I have money for shopping.” Then he directed a death stare at Schmidt. “And I’m going to _kill_ you.”

Schmidt simply smiled and took a long, loud sip of his coffee.

* * *

“Oh, I know where they keep the travel goods,” Schmidt said to Mrs. Miller, placing a protective arm around her shoulders. “The Sachi organic buckwheat neck pillows are simply divine.” Leading her away, he threw a warning glance over his shoulder that said, ‘You’d better uphold your end of the bet!’

Nick didn’t care, this might be his only shot. He pulled Jess away from where she seemed to be seriously studying the merits of the heated and non-heated blankets. She let out a little ‘eep’ of surprise as he tugged her out of sight. He tried to ignore how cute it was.

“Oo, are you trying to sneak in a little secret make-out?” she teased.

“Jess, we have got to work together here!” he told her in a frustrated whisper. “We’re never going to make it to tomorrow, if we don’t.”

Jess sighed. “I know. I’ve been dreading each new wrinkle of our roommates’ fiendish plans to destroy us all day.” She stroked a wrinkle-free sheet set beside her with one hand. “If only...”

“Right? I knew Schmidt was a devious bastard, but Winston? I feel betrayed.”

She placed a comforting hand on his arm. Nick looked down at it and thought about how her fingers felt through the materials. Usually it wouldn’t affect him at all, but the way they had been forced to pretend they were together heightened every touch, no matter how innocent.

He moved away from her at the same time she jumped back self-consciously. “Sorry! Um.” She shifted awkwardly for a moment, her face heating. “So we just have to make it until tomorrow, then.”

“Yes.” He put his hands on her shoulders in the most non-intimate way he could think of, like a teammate cheering on another. “We can do this.” But he removed his hands as quickly as possible, just in case.

She lowered her voice and adopted the tone of a football coach, or what she thought one would sound like. “Yeah, just _do_ it. Get out on that field, deliver that knockout blow and cross that finish line!”

“Aw, now you ruined it, Jess,” he grumbled. “We’re in a war, here, you have to take it seriously.”

She gasped slightly, affronted. “I _am_ taking it seriously. Do you think I have a hundred dollars or whatever is currently in that jar—probably more the way Schmidt’s been on a roll—to just throw away?”

“Oh, yeah, you really sound serious with your silly voices. ‘I’m Jessica Day, Miss Awkward USA!’”

Jess smacked him on the arm. “Hey, that’s mean! Meanie pants. You trade your jeans you only wash once a month for meanie pants when I wasn’t looking?”

He got right into her face, looming over her beside the packages of 300 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets. “Don’t you make fun of my jeans—they have never fit better!”

“We-he-hell,” Schmidt’s voice came from behind them. “ _There_ are our love birds. Trouble in para—?”

Schmidt’s words choked off as Jess grabbed Nick around the collar and pulled him into a full-blown kiss. The shock only took a moment to get over, and despite himself, he found his hands snaking around her waist and pulling her closer. She let out a little gasp of pleasure and surprise and slipped her tongue between his lips to take it deeper. _Holy hell_ , she could kiss.

Schmidt cleared his throat once, twice, _three_ times before they finally broke apart. “Oh, heh,” Nick said, trying not to notice how Jess’s lips were now swollen and pink. “Didn’t see you there.”

His mother stood there with her hand over her heart for a moment. Then she asked, “Did you find the blanket you wanted?”

Jess blindly grabbed the closest one on the shelf, bright red, and said, “Yep! You find your pillow?”

“Thanks to dear Schmidt here.” She held out her arm to Jess. “But come help me find those cupcake tins you use. I’ve never seen them in Chicago.”

Arm-in-arm, the two ladies walked ahead of the two guys. Nick smiled serenely and started to follow. Schmidt leaned in and whispered furiously, “You may think you’re winning, but I _know_ you are _this_ close to breaking, Nicholas.”

“Are we?” Nick said with a grin. Schmidt had no idea how close, but he wasn’t about to let it show. “Wait up, Ma, honey lips.” He sped ahead of Schmidt to catch them.

Behind, he heard a pause, then a worried murmur. “Winston, we are at Threat Level Orange, repeat, Threat Level Orange.” 

Nick smiled as he threaded his arm through Jess’s elbow.

* * *

They returned to Winston sitting on the couch, setting up a board game on the coffee table. As Jess got closer, she could see what it was... “Trivial Pursuit!” she cried happily, setting her shopping bags on the couch. “I love this game!”

“I know,” Winston said with a barely repressed grin. “Nick just _loves_ it, too, doesn’t he?”

Nick stood there, frowning at the pieces and board as if they were cockroaches on the outside of a whiskey-soaked box. “Adore it,” he said, not hiding his sarcasm well. The last time they played as a set of roommates (‘Oh, come on, Nick, the game pieces look like pie! Everyone loves pie!’ ‘Who eats multicolored plastic pie?!’ It was months before they found all the furiously-scattered pieces), it hadn’t gone well. He really did have a complicated relationship with oddly-colored dessert items.

“That’s funny,” Mrs. Miller said, “He’s always hated board games. You remember, Winston.”

“That’s _true_ , but L.A. Nick, _Jess_ ‘s Nick, why, he’s a changed man.” Winston gestured broadly to the chairs placed around the table. “Come, my friends, let us play.”

Suddenly Nick had a thought. “Teams, then! Millers,” he threw a sly glance at Jess, “and future Millers,” she giggled, an impressive display of acting, “versus you guys.”

“ _Oh,_ no, that’s not fair,” Winston said. “If we’re gonna have teams, it should be guys versus girls.”

“No, that’s not fair, either,” Jess said. “It’s still two to three.” She dug in her purse and pulled out her phone. “But there’s an easy way to solve that...”

An hour later, Jess, Cece, Mrs. Miller, Schmidt, Winston and Nick crouched around the board, drinks halfway down, snacks needing a refill. The girls’ game piece was trailing the guys’, three to four. Schmidt plucked a card from the deck and shook it in his hand with a flourish. “Which Scandinavian country’s longest and deepest fjord is the Sognafjorden?” His pronunciations were hilariously bad.

Jess rubbed at her chin. “How many Scandinavian countries are there again?” The beer (she didn’t dare have pink wine, not with the way Nick had been looking at her all day) was making her mind a little fuzzy. “Three? Four?” Mrs. Miller shook her head helplessly.

“Norway,” Cece answered coolly and took a sip of vodka. (Jess had filled her in on the bet and pretend relationship over the phone. ‘Girl, we are going to discuss this—at length—later. _After_ we wipe the floor with those guys.”)

“The beautiful lady is correct!” Schmidt said, putting the card back in the box. “Again. That’s a blue pie for the girls.”

“Tied, bitches!” Jess crowed, giving Cece a high five. When Nick landed on an Entertainment square, Jess plucked a card from their box. “My turn to ask: Who once warned: ‘Never eat more than you can lift’?”

“The Hulk,” Nick answered without hesitation.

“Now wait a minute, aren’t we gonna discuss this first?” Winston complained. “Wouldn’t Hulk say, ‘Not eat more than lift’? Or something?”

“ _I_ think the answer is Arnold Schwarzenegger, before his glorious political career,” Schmidt said confidently.

“I disagree,” said Nick, his frown starting to settle in deep.

“You’ve got to think about when this game was published,” Schmidt said. “Is the Hulk a likely answer to questions written in the 1980s?” 

“The Hulk has been around since the 1960s,” Nick countered, “so yeah.”

“Boys, boys.” Jess held up her hands like a referee. “Quit stalling and answer the question.”

“Schwarzenegger.”

“Hulk.” 

“Boys!” Jess chided. “There’s no need to fight about it.”

“Yeah, Nick,” Schmidt said. “And I know how much you _hate_ to argue.”

Nick’s frown grew deeper, inching into turtle face territory.

“Pooh Bear,” Jess cooed, running a hand down Nick’s arm to calm him, “You have to decide.” He was just annoyed enough with Schmidt that he didn’t react to her touch.

Winston dug in his pocket and pulled out a quarter. “I’ll just flip a coin. Heads, Schwarzenegger, tails, Hulk.” He tossed it up and flipped it over onto his hand. “Heads. Schwarzenegger.” The boys looked eagerly to Jess.

“Wrong!”

“Ha!” Nick said, leaning across Winston to taunt Schmidt. “Told you.”

“Hulk’s wrong, too!” Jess turned over the card to show them.

“Miss Piggy!” they read in unison, Nick groaning, Winston shrugging, and Schmidt muttering, “I really should have known that.”

The tie was broken handily as the game went on, the girls missing every question and the guys getting only supremely obvious ones. Nick was no longer faking his enjoyment of the game. Jess, due to a combination of the beer and the losing streak, was steaming. 

“I think this game is rigged! There’s no way all these questions are grouped together by accident.”

“Rigged?” Schmidt put a hand to his chest. “Jessica. I’m offended that you would think such a thing. Rigged, indeed.”

“Oh, I have _very_ good reason to suspect such a thing, right, Nick?” She gestured angrily with her cup, and foam splashed into the board.

“Jess...” Cece warned.

“It’s okay, dear,” Mrs. Miller tried to soothe.

Nick leaned back in his chair, a smile on his face. “I don’t know what you mean, sweetie. It all seems fair to me.”

“C’mon, back me up, here! They’ve been trying to undermine us all day!”

“I think you’re just a sore loser, Miss Day,” Nick responded calmly.

Jess completely lost it, coming to her feet and looming over him. “Oh, yeah? Well, at least I can admit it. Unlike you, who can’t admit anything.”

Winston and Schmidt shared a look—no one had expected Jess to break first. Cece bit her lip, knowing this had to play out. Mrs. Miller watched with a combination of worry, surprise and interest. 

“What are you talking about?” Nick stood to face her. “I’ve admitted more to you than any other human being!” Nick’s eyes were starting to bulge.

“Not the most important things!” Her eyes were starting to shine with unshed tears.

Without comment, Winston stood as well, padding nonchalantly over to the Douchebag Jar and bringing it back to the table area. Jess wiped at her eyes with the back of her forearm and then noticed the jar in Winston’s hands.

“All right, fine! You were right, Winston, I _can’t_ do it! Not when I’m faced day in and day out with... with... this!” She stomped over to her purse and fumbled through it for her wallet, mumbling, “Infuriating person... Pooh bear...? More like grizzly bear...” When she couldn’t find what she needed fast enough, she stomped back over to Winston, purse in hand, and dumped the contents over the top of the jar. “Just... just... take it all.”

Then she stomped away from the table, over to _her_ room and slammed the door. She didn’t care if they had guests or not.

The group around the table was silent for several long seconds. 

Nick’s eyes were wide and focused on the entrance to the hallway where Jess had disappeared. Winston was studying the spilled contents of the purse. Cece watched Nick, taking another quiet sip of her vodka. Schmidt shifted his attention between Nick and his mother, wondering who would break the silence first.

It was Mrs. Miller. “She has... a fiery personality, doesn’t she, Nicholas?”

Nick’s inertia broke. “Yes, she _does_ , Ma, so leave her alone!” He jumped up and raced after her and started banging on the door to Jess’s room.

The others sat there in silence again, trying not to listen in, but basically having no choice.

“Jess! Jess! Let me in! We need to talk!” Nick pounded again on the door for emphasis.

“Talk about _what_?” Jess yelled back, her voice sounding muffled by a pillow.

“Whatever you want to talk about! But, please! Let me in!”

There was another pause, and then they could hear the sound of a door opening and closing. The voices got more muffled, then, and it was much harder to hear what was being said. The group around the table looked at each other with embarrassed glances, unwilling to be the first to comment.

Mrs. Miller took the lead again. “Well, I don’t know about you... but I’m relieved.”

Cece turned to face her. “Now, wait just a minute, that’s my best friend you’re talking about...” Schmidt and Winston’s words were right on top of hers, “Jessica is really a lovely girl.” / “This is totally normal for them, if you were here every day, you’d see...”

“Oh, it’s not that, God, no.” She leaned forward and put a hand on Cece’s knee. “I’m _glad_ they’re fighting. They were just so sweet... and Nick was acting like a complete doormat... just like with that _Caroline_. She almost spat the name.

“You...” Cece began. “...like...” Schmidt continued. “...when they fight?” Winston finished.

“Yes!” Mrs. Miller said, smiling. “It means they have spark, they have passion, they let the other person breathe.”

“Why didn’t you say something before?” Winston asked, sitting down, and setting down the jar and the items that had fallen into it from Jess’s purse on the table. What he didn’t mention was the fact that Mrs. Miller seemed to have plenty of opinions about her son in other areas of his life.

“Because...” she sighed. “With the way things were with Nicholas’ dad... I felt like I had no room to judge.”

Schmidt leaned forward. “Do go on...”

“Nick’s dad, Walt, was so sweet, so smooth...” She picked up her wine and took a sip. “...and a lying son of a bitch.” Then she knocked back the rest of it. “Give me an honest, knockdown, drag-em-out fight _any_ day.”

* * *

Back in Jess’s bedroom, Jess and Nick couldn’t hear any of the living room conversation. As soon as Jess opened the door, he pushed his way in to close the door again. Jess went back to sit on her bed, and put her head in her hands. “Nick...” she groaned into them.

He sat beside her, not too close. “Jess.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, still into her hands. Then she lifted her head and looked at him with red-rimmed eyes. “I’m sorry I made us lose the bet.”

“Don’t beat yourself up, Jess. In three more seconds, I was going to break it myself.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He scrunched up his face. “It was just... I dunno... _weird_.”

Jess’s face broke into a tearful smile. “It was, wasn’t it? It felt _wrong_ not to argue for a whole day.” Her smile shifted into a lopsided grin. “I _like_ arguing with you.”

“I like arguing with you, too! I...” He averted his eyes, embarrassed. “...I look forward to it my whole shift.”

“Oh my god, so do I!” She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “I even taught everyone in my English class the all the synonyms for ‘argue’ the other day. Quibble, niggle, bicker, squabble, contend, debate...”

Nick laughed. “I bet that was a fun class.” Then his expression turned more serious. “If I didn’t have that to come home to, I...” 

Jess threaded her fingers through Nick’s. “Yeah.”

They sat silently for a moment. They both could hear voices from the living room, but couldn’t make out any words. Every once in a while, someone laughed.

“At least we didn’t ruin the party, huh?” Jess said. “They’re talking, at least.”

Nick squeezed Jess’s hand. “What was it that you wanted to talk about?”

“This... the arguing... the rest is not important...” Jess didn’t meet Nick’s eyes.

“No, it’s okay, tell me. I can handle it.”

She pulled her fingers away and scooted back toward the headboard. “No, it’s fine. We can talk about it later.”

He scooted closer. “Jess. You just yelled at me, in front of my _mother_ , that I wouldn’t talk about the important things.”

Jess clenched her fists. “And it’s because she’s out there, that we can’t.”

“Oh, c’ _mon_. If we go back out there without settling this, what will I tell her?” His voice rose, despite his best intentions.

“Tell her whatever you want!” Jess snapped. “I don’t owe her anything.”

“Well, I... I owe her everything! And she seems to _like_ you, Jess, do you know how important that is?” He came closer, his nose almost touching hers, and growled, “Now tell me what you wanted to talk about!”

“I won’t!” she growled back. 

He opened his mouth to retort something else, but all thought flew out of his head when she tackled him, her mouth covering his with a ferocity he’d only experienced during their arguments. It only took a moment before he was kissing her back just as ferociously, his arms circling her shoulders. A flame he had been ignoring for a while now started to build low in his groin. As they kissed, each little gasp and moan fanned the flames.

The erection he had tried to hide this morning sprang back, full force. With a pleased hum, Jess felt it, too, and her hand slithered down his side and down to palm it through his jeans. “How long has this big guy been hiding from me?”

“Oh, my god, Jess...” He wanted to tell her to knock off the silly stuff, but if she was going to touch him like that, he would let her use a million funny voices. In fact... He lifted one hand and traced the curve of her breast. “I spy, with my little eye, something round,” he said in a singsongy voice.

Jess’s hand stopped, and she looked down at him with one eyebrow raised.

“Too childish?”

Jess shrugged. “What do I know? I like games, remember?”

He grinned and then suddenly flipped her onto her back. This was the kind of game he liked.

* * *

The sounds of Jess and Nick’s angrily-raised voices drifted out toward the group. “Sounds like they’re at it again,” Winston said with a shake of his head and a smile he couldn’t quite hide.

“Wanna finish out the game?” Schmidt suggested. “The teams are still even.”

Cece set down her shot glass. “Sure. You in, Mrs. Miller?”

Mrs. Miller gave her a tight nod. “Let’s wipe the floor with these bitches.”

“Mrs. Miller!” Winston said with pretend shock.

“I like a woman who knows what she wants,” Schmidt said. Then he picked up the box from the girls’ side of the table and set it on the floor. “But let’s share the questions in the _same_ box for the rest of the game.”

“So you _did_ rig the boxes?” Cece asked Winston.

Winston slid a finger along his nose. “I’ll never tell.” He picked a card out of the box, and cleared his throat. “Next question: What name did the meaner of Cinderella’s stepsisters call her in the story by Charles Perr—”

He cut off. The others looked at him with curiosity, wondering why he had suddenly stopped reading.

It was obvious in another moment. The very distinct sound of bed springs squeaking rhythmically drifted from the hallway.

Cece was immediately on her feet. “And that’s the game! Congratulations, guys!” She turned to Mrs. Miller. “You like movies? I hear there’s a great one at the multiplex.”

Mrs. Miller nodded fervently. “Is there a hotel close by it?”

“I recommend the Hilton Garden Inn,” Schmidt answered. “Great suite layout.”

The three were scrambling out the door in ten seconds flat, Winston pleading, “Wait up for me!”

They got out just in time. A few minutes later, Nick’s clear groan rang out. “Olly olly oxen free!”

* * *

Over the next few months, the local cinema started to recognize Schmidt and Winston as regulars. The moment the arguing began, Schmidt would turn off the TV, and Winston would reach for his coat. “Really,” Schmidt said with disgust as he and Winston were fleeing from a particularly loud argument, “you’d think they would keep their foreplay to the _bedroom_.”


End file.
